Shadows and Sorrow
by Shadow Redbird
Summary: When the world ended on the 13th of April, there were a number of people, ranging from children to adults, that decided to play a certain game. SBURB. This is the story of a few university students who decided to play it for kicks. But, it turned out to be more than they bargained for.


Chapter one - prologue

I never thought in all of my life that things would turn out the way they did.

When we had started playing the game, it was only supposed to be harmless fun. Just a game to kill some time, to procrastinate the various assignments given to us by our professors to work on. We had planned to record our adventure and post it on Youtube. It was what we did, usually. We played new or obscure multiplayer games, recorded our progress, then posted them online for others to see and criticize. It was not supposed to be any different this time.

So what went wrong?

The fact that a _complete_ walkthrough ceased to exist, never existed, should have clued us in on how deadly it was. Or maybe, the general confusion on what the game was actually about was a sign as well. Seemingly logical, or it could have just been that we were destined for doom from the start.

Everything I learned since that incident points to but one conclusion. We were _never_ meant to survive this. Not one of us was supposed to live. The signs were everywhere. And because we were either too ignorant or too oblivious to notice them. We were doomed from the nanosecond we entered this ironic adventure game.

I say ironic because that is what it really was. This game was entertainment for whatever sick, twisted god chose to create it. A game that was both salvation and total annihilation, and even that, I knew, was not completely true. We were never meant to survive it, as I was sure that others who have played, learned for their very selves when it all came to an abrupt end.

Which brings me to my next question._Why __did __I __survive_? Why was I the only one to live through such horrors and live to tell the tale- a tale that had no ears to seep in my heeded warnings. There was not anyone to tell. Not anymore. Just an empty story of suffering for no greater purpose, that no one will ever be able to listen to. Maybe, if I was not what I am now, I _would_ be able to meet another, willing to listen as I am willing to tell. But, my abilities do not allow me to traverse time on a whim.

Now I can only guess that my survival was not foreseen. Even by the game. No one could have predicted what had happened. How was I supposed to know what that stone thing was for? It was not mentioned in any of the incomplete walkthroughs, although, not a heck of a lot was mentioned anyways. Not one of them entered the medium. When I first saw that strange rock thing at the top of some ruins, I thought of the stone table that appeared in Narnia. I did not have time to think much of it after that, or consider what the symbol on it meant.

There were too many of them. These strange enemies that appeared at seemingly random intervals, seemed almost like they spawned. Actually, that description seems close to perfect- it was the only one that made sense, to any word that could have been used in English, that is. It was a game after all, and at that point, I knew that this was where I would surely die. There was no avoiding it, though, all that was left was a choice. And I _chose_ to die fighting.

So, I jumped onto that stone thing, and faced these odd creatures of various kinds and sizes until they finally cut me down; but not after I had taken out a third of their forces.

And I died. Died at the top of those ruins, on that _thing_ that reminds me of Narnia. I died after fighting tooth and nail to save all that was left, and all that I cared about. I died after losing everything, after failing everyone who was counting on me.

And despite all of my failures, all my mistakes and all the unspeakable deeds that I was asked to perform; despite being physically incapable to prevent or slow down the inevitable...

I arose again- an empty shell of what I use to be. With no purpose to speak of, no means to go by, and no one to call friend. I was the embodiment of an unspeakable hatred that ignited like a burst of adrenaline through the walls of my veins.

Crushed by devastation. Shattered by my own pointless emotions. Lifeless. Meaningless. Purposeless.

Void.

* * *

So this is the fully edited version. I got someone to help me edit. And he is also my beta. And a good friend for doing this for me when he has no idea of what homestuck is. Well, I guess that he will find out over the course of this fanfiction, unless he rage quits on me.

I do not own homestuck or any other product/characters/games mention in this story. The only thing that are from my own imagination are the characters, and individual plot twists.

Many thanks to my beta/editor~

Thanks to you, for reading~

Reviews are appreciated~


End file.
